Dealing
by Katrina Marie Lupin
Summary: When Avonlea cries for his help, he goes to meet the 'beauty, but funny' girl that he's heard tell about. She catches his eye (and his heart?) and he decides that she will make a fine price. It's a good day to be Dealing! Courtesan!Belle.


_Excellent_.

It was a good day to be Dealing. Pretty lass in the castle, and a _fiesty_ one at that. He'd heard legends of the little princess of Avonlea. "Very pretty, but very odd," they said. She read voraciously, a hobby not unheard of for nobility, but fro a woman especially, not the kind of thing to waste such time with. Escapists had their heads in the clouds, and their noses in books. It gave them funny ideas. So it was with a bit of ruffled feathers he came to know about the lady Belle, her father's spoiled pearl, living a life of solitary, childlike adventure while her peers married and had children. Maurice's own wife had fallen ill when the girl was very young, so there was no one to teach her that she ought to be thinking of men and heirs. How tragick, that she should be so old and unmarried.

He'd meant to visit the quaint duchy for some time, but never got around to it. And then the ogres came — oh, ogres were great for business, much as he hated them. He was called upon by many, as teh beasts made their way across the land. Pittances, the tiny deals. Surely there were things worth snatching, but he couldn't be bothered to pick through them all. Hardly worth his time. But he watched the army's progress, and found himself pleased when Avonlea called at last.

_Desperate times call for desperate measures_.

He had to confess, he was curious to see the odd-but-beautiful princess, but he had not expected what he found. It was true — she was quite stunning, eyes the blue of skies, hair the chocolate brown of chestnuts, curling around her rounded, heart-shaped face. Pretty lips painted a fetching red, her dresses cut temptingly, but tasteful. She was to be married, soon, and she was the duke's daughter, and she certainly looked the part. How he longed to stroke that tender skin… It'd been a little while since he'd taken a woman for himself in a Deal. Perhaps it was time to take on a new mistress. Still, snivelling maids were more trouble than they were worth, when a whore took gold without question.

The duke spoiled her, let her run free as a child, with few responsibilities, and yes, she always had her nose stuck in a book. But he watched her interactions with others, and discovered she had a sharp mind and a quick tongue! He watched her swap banter with a merchant, much as a knight would fight swords, and bested him, trapping him in a piece of logick that had him chuckling in modesty before handing her the prize. She had a bold fearlessness to her, and was unafraid to ask questions — he watched her challenge a larger man on a matter of misunderstandings between a lady's buying of bread. She was fair, and listened to both sides, but did not shirk from his sheer size. When she spoke, it was with surety, and her decision to let the lady have her bread was respected, albeit begrudgingly. At another time, someone begged her to call for help as an old woman found an unwanted barn owl snapping in her spare shed. Everyone was quick to panick, but she asked the woman gently, "But Madame, were you not just last week wishing for a cure to your rodent problem? Perhaps the bird is here to see to your request. Leave him in peace, and he will do his work quickly." Seeing the strange wisdom in her words, the lady nodded, and reluctantly left the bird to devour her mice.

He was startled to find himself beaming at the unorthodox solution. People truly did fuss quite a bit when their prayers were answered in such an ugly way. She was an incredibly odd girl, it was very true, but he found he liked it. Almost as much as he liked the way her curls bounced as she walked, or how her skirts swished about her soft form. Her dainty fingers clutched her basket with a small strength, and the books inside it betrayed her wandering mind.

The girl made her way through town, smiling, and greeting, but people rarely said more than, 'Hello' and 'How are you?', and paid her little attention. In fact, some seemed pleased to find distractions from her company, and by the time she'd finished her market day shopping and returned to the castle, he was frowning. All the people in the duchy, and she seemed so lonely. Shame, she's such a pretty girl. Surely someone gave her good company?

There was a Sir Gaston, and he quickly learned he was her fiancee — they were due to marry in the next moon or two, although the ogres were making arrangements stressful. He was a handsome cut, strong with the sword, and Rumplestiltskin found he disliked him instantly, and made funny faces at the brute. He had a solid jaw and a deep, proud voice, but he noticed that Belle's words with him were short, and simple. He watched as she told her future-husband about the owl, and his first response was as reflexive as the others — he drew his sword, asking her where it was, so that he might slay it. And she'd pursed her lips ever so slightly — such beautiful, pouting lips — and shook her pretty little head, and explained her wisdom. The knight warned against her foolishness, and she looked away — oh, what fire! What pride! — and said simply to herself, "You'll come around."

He followed her as she wandered to the kitchens, the delicate droop of her shoulders belying her disappointment, and the help greeting her cheerfully. She offered to help with a broom, but they didn't quite tsk her away, instead letting her do as she wished. Perhaps she fancied herself welcome, and enjoyed their company for a time, but when she made a particularly witty remark about broomsticks and witches, he found himself the only one giggling.

And his heart broke as he looked around at them all, and then back to her. He watched her smile falter as the kitchen wenches give her soft nods, her nonsense a familiar befuddlement, as her clever words sailed over their heads. His teeth gritted, as he realised that for all of their kindness, she'd yet to find someone with a mind to match hers — iron against which to sharpen her blade. She finally made her way to court, and it was the same — everyone was kind to her, but she connected with no one. Even her father still called her 'child', and beckoned her to his side for the comfort of her pretty face, instead of the strength of her spirit.

It angered him. And for three more days, he watched her, captivated by her, vengeful for her. He watched her try her best to be pleasant, her earnestness heart-wrenching in its sincerity. He watched her hide in her books after a long day of empty smiles and provincial conversation. Watched her comfort her father in court, and attempt to help with her bardic wisdom, but her words were waved away as the follies of a child. No one spoke it, but there were eyes that said the girl should not be in the room, but it was clear her father had spoiled her for so long, she knew not her place. He wondered how harsh the world would be to her, when her knight came to take her away. He would 'stomp out' that book nonsense soon enough, he was sure, and then where would she be? She had no idea exactly how screwed she was.

So it was with a clear goal in mind that he decided on his price. She was pretty, and that was lovely, but she was beautiful _and_ clever. He couldn't even say the same was true for Snow White, whose well-meaning misadventures were cursed with her own short-sightedness, or Regina, who had the style of a self-imposed queen, but couldn't trick her way out of a wet paper bag (really, it was so easy to tell when she was lying. Her imagination wasn't that creative, and her language was always over the top — she managed things because she had the power and influence to hire a decent mercenary). This girl was being _wasted_ here. Gaston would not appreciate her, would not worship her as she ought to be worshiped. He would try to kill that brilliance in her mind, try to tame her wild imagination, and the prettiest pearl in the world would be tossed aside because it wasn't a stone. He wouldn't have it. If she was to be so mistreated, she could instead waste her years with a monster like _him_. At least he wouldn't stare at her like a blind man when she sparkled with wit.

It was a song and dance, and a cruel one, but they were _stupid people_. Simple people. And they were so easy to manipulate. For them… He would not have wasted his time, but _her_…

"Yes, I can protect your little town." Full of little people… "For a price." He did his best to speak in small words, so they could understand him. Keep it simple. The knight does his due, and Rumplestiltskin has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Or wrap a hand around his throat. "I'm looking for a caretaker for my…" Oh, how did he want to say this? "Rather large estate."

The look on Maurice's face is priceless. He knows what the demon's talking about. She's ready to be wed? He'll take her off his hands. Won't even bother with a dowry. He can save the gold to fix his miserable little town. He oughtn't even be upset about it — he's plenty ready to marry her off to the brute, and in this way, his town is saved. Yes, it's the Dark One, but really, that just makes it _fun_.

The girl gapes, disbelieving. He can read the words in her eyes, _That's all?_ He almost wants her to ask, so he can be more detailed in her duties, to tell her what her father has already envisioned.

But Rumplestiltskin keeps his eyes on the duke. He's sure to wear his most lascivious smile, and his eyes glisten with the dark lust as he ponders exactly the kind of horrible things he could do to this beloved pearl. Things that would make her squirm and scream and writhe, and the duke can _see it_ in his eyes. "It's her, or no deal."

"_Get out_," he breathes. He jabs a finger back to the door of the throne room, and Rumplestiltskin smiles. "Leave!"

_You are playing right into my hand, you fool_. He's rejected the deal, as expected. It's the best kind of hook — the duke knows what is implied, but the girl does not. For all of her bookish knowledge, she has been sheltered from the cruelties of the world. He found a nice, clean, stupid little knight with which for her to marry, and probably took a long time to find him. His child, his precious pearl, is something he would never trade. And yet, to the girl herself, it is the simplest choice in the world.

Her knight pulls her aside, but she cranes her neck over the arm to see him, the potential saviour of her people. Provincial as they are, they're _hers_.

It's hard to keep the bounce out of his long, fluid step. Hard to temper the grin, and pretend he is mildly disappointed. "As you wish." Another, two…And then shorter ones. _Wait for it_. Tiny step, step, step…

"Wait."

He stops. He turns. It is smug satisfaction. _Played like a violin_. Because in all honesty, he can't take a girl's hand from her father. If she is to be his… She must take the deal herself.

She struggles for a moment in her fiance's grip, but approaches the opening. She stands before him, properly, not the thing to be bartered, but the client in a deal.

_And so the stage is set_. It's a cruel song and dance, but necessary. He must get her out of their protective arms, away from their well-meaning shields, to where she can stand on her own two feet. Her mind, so sharp, her pride, so bold… He wouldn't have it any other way.

Maurice knows. Oh, he knows… Once she's made her choice, he can't do a damned thing about it. Even Gaston's eyes well with tears, knowing he is going to lose his gem. Worthless knight.

Her jaw is set. "I will go with you."

He laughs! Oh, he couldn't have picked such vague words. Well, he could have. Still, it delights him. She is so used to playing with such simple fools, she knows not what she's doing. It's charming, and in time he will teach her better, but for now he relishes it, and puts his hands together in surpreme delight.

"No…" her father breathes, because he knows… He _knows_ what the deal entails. Knows that once she goes with him, she will be his. His to do with as he pleases. And there's no doubt in his mind that Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, will most _happily_ do the most he can with what he possesses. And it's also known that no one — _no one_ — takes from him and gets away with it. Once she's his, she's his _forever_.

"No one chooses my fate, but me."

_There it is_. The words of a bride who did not choose her husband. It's just the right angle, and he's got her hook, line and sinker. One does not truly need the father's blessings. But it must be her choice, here, man and woman, she must make this commitment herself. It is a choice of grooms, even if she doesn't realise it. "I shall go." She turns to him, and he sees that boldness, that pride. It is _delicious_.

"It's forever, dearie," he warns her. It's only fair to warn her. Well, it's more than fair, actually, but she has no idea what she's agreeing to… Not really. It's a kindness of his own to make it clear to her.

She purses her lips. And then, to his surprise, she counters. "My family, my friends — they will all live?"

_Oh, she'll make the finest courtesan_, he thinks to himself. Facing the Dark One, in all his glory, and even as she's already agreed to it, when he gives her fair chance to reconsider, she counters. What a mind! Sharp and forward-thinking, and _compassionate_. For all the flaws she could have, this is not one he can fault her for.

_Consider it a wedding gift_, he says to himself. He bows graciously. "You have my word." She could have asked far worse things. Far more… _selfish_ things. How curious, for all the desperate souls he's dealt with, how pure and honest this one is. She will be a monument to his skill as a Dealer. No one will be able to equal this find! The priceless pearl for which a man would sell his whole land… And instead the pearl sells herself for the survival of those around her. What a tale to tell!

"Then you have mine. I will go. With you. Forever."

He takes a moment to appreciate this. Such fine wedding vows! "Deal!" He can't help his enthusiasm, oh, she doesn't know, but oh, she's his! For now and forever! He giggles for pure mirth. There's even a court to bear witness to the union. _He need only consummate it_. Oh, what deliciousness.

Her father tries to dissuade her. "Belle… Please. You can't go with this…" He looks up with hateful eyes at Rumplestiltskin. "Beast."

_Oh, it's so true_, but he's just so bloody pleased, he plays it off with mock offense. _Moi? Please, I'm just the groom! What do you expect me to want of my new bride?_

"Father…" She touches his fur. Such a tender child. And yet, now no longer a comforting child. "Gaston." She looks to them both. "It's been decided."

It's touching, and so delicious, he truly can't help it. He steps behind his bride, grinning. "You know…" Oh, the things he could say… No! Best keep it simple for these neanderthals. "She's right. The deal is struck." She looks to him, out of the corner of her eye. She is not a blushing bride, but she's a _willing_ one.

He takes a hand to her waist, and turns her gently. Together they walk from the courtroom, place of law and ceremony, as husband and wife.

It was a good day to be Dealing.


End file.
